Cafe Cobalt
by Lomonaaeren
Summary: HPDM slash. Running into each other at the Cafe Cobalt wasn't what either Harry or Draco had planned on, but they had to admit it might be the best thing that had happened to them in a long time. COMPLETE.


**Title: **Cafe Cobalt

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Warnings: **Slight angst, past relationship and break-up

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco, mentions of past Harry/Ginny and Draco/Astoria

**Wordcount:** 2500

**Summary: **Running into each other at the Cafe Cobalt wasn't what either Harry or Draco had planned on, but they had to admit it might be the best thing that had happened to them in a long time.

**Author's Notes: **An Advent fic for sassy_cissa, who asked for _rekindled romance at the holidays._ Be warned of the ridiculous amounts of fluff contained herein.

**Cafe Cobalt**

"Watch where you're go-"

Too late. The brand-new plate of tiny sandwiches that Harry had been carrying back to the Auror office crumpled and turned into smears of cucumber, butter, beef, and other, now unidentifiable, ingredients against his robes as he slammed into the turning body that was being very careless about where it was going. Harry gritted his teeth and Summoned a napkin to dab at it.

"Potter."

Harry looked up. He came to the Cafe Cobalt all the time for lunch, and when it was his turn to provide sandwiches for some group who thought being boring also made them important. There was no reason for anyone to be surprised about meeting him here. By now, even the fervent autograph-seekers had given up asking for new variations on the t's and r's in his name.

But in front of him stood Draco, his stance so tense and his gaze so deadly serious that Harry couldn't even feel smug about the tiny slice of orange dangling from his nose.

Then Draco's tongue came out to lick at the small but steady stream of juice making its way down his face from that slice, and Harry _really _couldn't look. He turned his gaze away and shook his head. "Sorry for that," he said, even though Draco had been the one to charge up behind him and it was _his _fault. "I need to find another place to order food." He Vanished the crumpled plate in his hands and moved fast for the door.

"Harry."

It was _unfair _that Draco still had the power to command him to stand still just by saying his name, after all this time. Harry felt the sway of his robes that indicated he had come to a halt before he realized he'd stopped moving. He gritted his teeth and turned around. Used to him or not, the Cafe Cobalt was popular and had lots of customers, and right now they were all staring at him in interest.

"Malfoy-"

"Draco." Draco gave him a smile as intense as the way he was standing, and damn it, it was also unfair that he had the power to make Harry's heart flutter when all he'd said were their names. "Come on." He scooped up a tall glass with something foamy and yellow that must be his order, and pointed towards a small round table in the corner. "We need to catch up."

Harry hesitated. "Malf-" he said, and then cut off. No one contradicted Draco when he was in _that _mood, with his brows drawing down. "Fine. Draco. I don't have time. I have to get back to work."

It was the major reason they had broken up, and if any words could do it, those should have made Draco let him go now. But Draco gave him another look that lava could have learned things about burning from, and Harry swallowed.

"I know you're a good employee," Draco said softly. "Punctual. On time. Have you ever given them cause to complain?"

Harry shook his head, wordless. He had been a good employee for years. A good Auror. Not always a good friend, or a good lover.

"Then they'll forgive you now," Draco said complacently, and took his arm to steer him over.

Like fire, still, that hold. Like a ring.

Harry yielded, and went with him.

* * *

Draco was glad that drinks in this place-which he had heard about from Pansy, but had never visited-came in such tall glasses, and ones frosted over with the cold of the foamy beer inside them. It hid the way his hands shook.

Or _wanted _to shake. When he had reached out to Harry, he had expected a sudden rebellion against his authority, what little he had in this situation, Harry shaking him off and demanding to know what the _fuck _he was doing.

But he had held firm through that, and now he was holding Harry. Well, his arm. It didn't matter. Draco could have touched the hem of his robe, those bloody Auror robes that had caused them such trouble, in the dark, after a three-day drinking binge, and he would have known it was his Harry.

They sat down at the table. Draco had to admit the place was nice, if only because he was now studying the walls to keep from looking at Harry immediately. They were the deep blue, gleaming and half-metallic, that gave the cafe its name, and woven subtly into the various panels of wood and metal and stone that made them up were ocean scenes. They moved, like portraits, but so slowly that you had to pay attention for a long time before you realized that this wave was curling up, that dolphin had arched and disappeared back into the water with a little white splash, and this underwater garden showed a school of fish playing tag. Currently, most of the dolphins wore holly garlands around their necks, and mistletoe had replaced the coral. The cafe's concession to the holiday season, Draco supposed.

"What did you want to talk about?"

That was Harry, direct as always. Direct when he told Draco he'd had enough, that his job was more important to him than Draco was.

But that had been three years ago, and Draco turned around and rested his hands on the table to keep them from shaking this time. "What do you think?" he asked. He could be direct, too.

Harry's jaw tightened. "I don't have time for this."

But he didn't push himself back from the table and leave. Later, Draco thought that was the only thing that gave him the courage to continue speaking.

"You know what it's about," he said. "Breaking up. The-the desire I have to get back together."

It was absurd how much his voice shook as he said those simple words, considering how often he had practiced them in front of the bedroom mirror. The mirror that hung above the bed, where he and Harry could look up at themselves after they had finished enjoying each other. Draco had never had the heart to remove it after Harry left.

Harry was staring at him. Then he tapped his right ear with one hand and shook his head a little. "I'm sorry?" he asked. "You want me to come back after you yelled at me to go somewhere fucking else and never come back, if I was going to be that way?"

Draco felt himself flush, and once again hid behind the tall, chilled glass. He supposed he might have said that, although at the moment he couldn't really remember. "Yes," he said. "I miss you."

Harry gaped at him this time. Draco sat back. He had done his share, he thought. He wanted to hide his shaking hands, and wait for Harry's response. If it was going to be the same level of idiocy, then Draco would walk away and cease regretting the past.

He told himself that, and knew it probably wasn't true, and hated the impulse. The burn mark Harry's leaving had seared into him hurt more than the brief sacrifice of his pride, though. He was going to sit here until Harry made a decision, and he would plan something else if he didn't like the decision.

* * *

An internal clock that Harry had never ceased listening to since he became an Auror told him he would be late for the meeting, and Kingsley would be upset.

For the first time since he'd become an Auror, he hit the clock hard with one hard and made it stop ringing. This was more important.

He felt almost breathless with the chance that Draco had given him. Harry had accepted that his obsession with his job was largely responsible for their break-up, but since Draco had told him never to come back, he'd never had the chance to tell Draco he did think Draco was more important than Auror work.

Maybe he had a chance to prove it now.

"Listen," he said. "I miss you, too. It's just-it didn't work once. Would you want to try again?"

Draco looked up again, eyes so quick that Harry felt as though they were pins driving into him, as though he was some little butterfly that a Muggle child was staking to a card. He licked his lips and wished he'd got something to drink. Draco looked admirably cool, sitting there with his glass.

"I want to try again," Draco said. Very definite. Very low. He probably didn't want anyone else sitting around them, chattering and listening to the endless varied music that poured out of hidden charms, to hear what he was saying in case Harry refused.

And that left it up to Harry. He knew the risk Draco had taken by approaching him, and it was a risk Draco would once have died rather than take. Three years had been enough to beat down his pride, a little.

Harry made his hand move. It crept slowly across the table, as if it was the insect Harry felt like. Draco watched it in silence, and didn't move when it finally touched his, except to raise his eyes to Harry's.

"I want to," Harry said. "I'm going to stay here with you. Kingsley can look for me all he wants. I deserve an afternoon to be in love."

Draco's eyes fluttered rapidly. Harry saw his throat work. He had to glance down at the table to control his own blush. Damn. He had really _loved _watching the way Draco did that, once upon a time.

"An afternoon," Draco said, turning Harry's hand over. "More than that?"

Maybe Draco wasn't as completely confident as he appeared, Harry thought. Maybe he was a little choked, forcing his words past fear. That made Harry breathe easier, himself. He wasn't the only one vulnerable here.

"More than that," Harry whispered back, and darted his eyes around without moving his head. A few people had stared at them, but most had now turned back to their own food, or waiting in line for food, or conversations in between bolted scraps of food. They were used to him now. Harry had never given as many thanks for that as he did now.

He raised Draco's hand to his lips. Draco shut his eyes and tipped his head back against the chair just before Harry kissed him.

This time, Harry was sure, because he could _feel _it, the single intense shiver that broke through Draco's body. It started in his fingertips and coursed under Harry's lips, down his arm and up to his shoulders and down to his legs. For a second, Harry heard Draco's foot tapping under the table, like chattering teeth.

Harry smiled. But he found that he wasn't completely satisfied, that he still had something to ask.

"Look at me?" he whispered, he asked.

* * *

It was hard when memories of melting made Draco want to collapse in his chair, but it was the first request Harry had made of him in three years, if you didn't count the owl he had sent demanding his Invisibility Cloak back. Draco concentrated, willing the courage that had carried him this far into his body, and finally his eyelids lifted.

Harry smiled at him, leaning in, body a shield that blocked their table from prying eyes. Not that Draco would care if other people saw them now, but if Harry wanted privacy, then Draco wanted it, too.

"Good," Harry whispered. "I want you looking at me when I kiss you."

He took his time, reaching a delicate hand out and cupping Draco's jaw, sliding his fingers gently back and forth. Draco thought he managed to suppress his shivering credibly, but he wasn't sure.

Harry eased close, eyes still open and fixed on his. Draco had to fight harder than he'd thought he would to keep looking at Harry, though-and not because Harry was hard on the eyes, either. Simply because he was so intense, _this _was so intense, a blending of lips that accelerated, a hand that turned from holding him to gripping him, and Harry's breath on his mouth and his hoarse sounds, as though he was starving and someone might take Draco away any minute.

Draco had dreamed of a better life without Harry, once. He had been sure it would claim him the minute Harry was gone. He would find someone who loved _him_, not his job. He would find someone who wanted to be with _him_, not a convenient fuck who would wait around the house and be available whenever Harry wanted him.

But he hadn't found that, perhaps because he had been running away from the wrong thing, too. Harry had loved his job too much, but he had bowed to Draco's convenience and waited for _him_, too. And he had loved him, maybe since that day when they had bumped into each other coming around a corner in the Ministry, much the way they'd done here, and Harry had looked him in the eye and then all over, mouth warming slowly as he saw the way Draco really was, instead of his preconceptions.

Now Draco thought he could have what he wanted again. His hands shivered against Harry's head, and Harry turned it so that his hair bristled and nestled more comfortably into Draco's palms. Draco gasped. Harry caught the sound on his tongue, and Draco shivered with warmth this time, the heat burrowing into his body and winding around his courage, bolstering it, supporting it.

Replacing the burn mark Harry had left on his soul.

"God, I missed you," Harry whispered.

_Missed. _As in, he no longer did. He no longer needed to.

Draco rose to his feet in triumph, and brought Harry with him, because Harry wouldn't stop kissing him, and stares speared them from all over the cafe, while people muttered at them loud enough to be heard over the music.

"You burned me, but it was always the best kind of burning," Harry whispered then.

And _finally, _Draco had it. The acknowledgement that Harry had been affected, too, that just because he had been the one to walk away from Draco didn't mean that he wasn't burnt.

He leaned more fully into Harry to make him fall back against the wall, and they kissed, while fish floated staring at their backs and dolphins bobbed along with candy canes in their mouths that they tried to offer Draco.

Draco winked at the dolphins and their human audience, and made no move to touch the walls. He had all the sweetness he needed, and all the coiling fire.

And when Harry pulled back, muttered, "I don't know what time my next meeting is, and I don't care," and then went back to kissing him, that set the seal on it.

**The End.**


End file.
